


What My Own Hands Can Make

by ghermez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26174374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghermez/pseuds/ghermez
Summary: Kita Shinsuke enjoys the mornings, especially when they begin with a kiss from Sakusa Kiyoomi and a word of kindness from Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	What My Own Hands Can Make

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neomints](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neomints/gifts).



Mornings possess a certain delicacy about them. Wake up too late and Shinsuke might miss the look on Wakatoshi’s face just seconds before his eyes blink open and smile at him. And that scene is something Shinsuke simply cannot miss. Just as he wouldn’t trade the world for the way Kiyoomi, breath minty fresh at six o’clock, slips his strong arms around his waist, nuzzling his smooth shaven cheek against Shinsuke’s neck, and says, “Good morning, Shinsuke-san.”

Always so polite and lovely despite them being together for over five years.

But that isn’t so bad, not when Kiyoomi lets out the sweetest _“Shin”_ in moments far more intimate than this one, when _he’s_ the one sandwiched between Wakatoshi’s powerful chest and Shinsuke’s unerring hips. 

So, Shinsuke rubs his cheek against Kiyoomi’s chest and greets him back, all the while hearing the shuffle of Wakatoshi putting on his running shoes. “Good morning, Kiyoomi.”

It is a holiday, but his boyfriends don’t defer from their routine—a fact Shinsuke appreciates greatly. They will be out of the house by eight, at the gym by eight fifteen. But first, they go for their morning run, side by side, and despite getting a regular invitation to join, Shinsuke sits it out, preferring instead to stay home and catch up on his reading.

Shinsuke scans Kiyoomi’s face, sees the hint of pink on his cheeks and coating his ears, and asks, “May I kiss you?” It isn’t always that Kiyoomi is interested in being touched back.

But now, Kiyoomi tilts his face to him, sunflower chasing the sun, his back bowed gracefully, and his lips puckering a little. It’s endearing, so Shinsuke wraps his hands around Kiyoomi’s handsome face—noting that he’ll need to change his gloves before continuing with breakfast preparation—and kisses him.

He lingers over Kiyoomi’s lips, his mouth is closed, but he wants to taste the mint on Kiyoomi’s tongue. It’s Kiyoomi who lets out a soft, barely-there sigh through his nose, tickling Shinsuke’s cheeks, and breathes Shinsuke’s name, his lips parting gently. The _“Shinsuke-san”_ from Kiyoomi might be an invitation and surrender, but it’s laden with his consent as well. Shinsuke offers gratitude in the form of firm strokes of his tongue across Kiyoomi’s, smiling at the shiver running through his lover’s frame, then braces his hands against Kiyoomi’s broad shoulders and lets the hum building at the back of his throat out, enjoying the thrill building at the base of his spine. Intimacy with Kiyoomi so early in the morning feels like a secret, a gift wrapped in tenderness and caution.

Their lips part ways with a wet sound. Shinsuke smiles and wipes the side of Kiyoomi’s mouth. He’s very pleased to have had this kiss to start his day. “Thank you, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi tucks his chin into his chest, the hands he has grasping Shinsuke’s apron are tightly wound, but unfurls them and lets go.

“Good morning, Shinsuke,” comes Wakatoshi’s greeting at the door of the kitchen. He stands tall, back straight, his thighs corded and yummy in the pair of shorts he wears. Shinsuke lets go of Kiyoomi and curls his fingers, beckoning, but Wakatoshi merely raises a hand in response.

“That has to wait today. I will see you after my run.”

 _Ah_. Shinsuke knows the glint in Wakatoshi’s eyes. _If I kiss you now, I will disregard my run and drag you back to our bed,_ the heavy glance says, loud and clear, and the warmth between Shinsuke’s hips heats up, but he lets them go after handing them a quick, “Have a good run,” and their bottles of water, at room temperature just as they like. 

The house, which they bought together, seems a little quieter after the pitter-patter of Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi’s footsteps fade in the distance. Shinsuke is left to the silence—and his favorite part of the day.

Making breakfast.

Albeit it’s mundane to most, and a headache to some, cooking in the morning is one of Shinsuke’s small blessings. 

He first begins by changing his clear gloves, then proceeds to grab the tub where he stores rice, scooping out a portion big enough to fulfill his boyfriends. While he’s washing the rice, hands moving carefully through the grains, observing the cloudy water, Shinsuke thinks back on Kiyoomi’s kiss, curls his lips inward and licks them, remembering the desire in Kiyoomi’s eyes.

With the rice in the cooker, he prepares the meat. There is salmon for Wakatoshi and eggs for Kiyoomi. _You don’t have to prepare different dishes_ , Wakatoshi had said last time Shinsuke did this, but he’s seen the gratitude in their eyes, grown comfortable with dolling out love in the form of food.

The salmon is grilled because Shinsuke makes sure to keep it nutritious and low on fat. The eggs are whipped and made into tamagoyaki. Once that is finished, he begins putting together the lunch boxes. Umeboshi onigiri is both Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi’s favorite flavor, so Shinsuke loses himself in the shaping, carefully placing all of his fondness in every triangle.

The lunch boxes are prepared and placed in the insulated carriers Shinsuke got for Christmas last year, awaiting on the counter. Then he gets to the task of making miso soup, which is the last item on his breakfast menu, making sure it’s hot and fresh for Wakatoshi and Kiyoomi’s return.

It’s seven on the dot when they shuffle in, their sounds of heavy panting, the twin thud of their heavy running shoes getting slotted in the rack by the entrance preceding their appearance. Shinsuke barely has time to change into a fresh shirt when they barrel in, broad shouldered Wakatoshi and lean Kiyoomi, somehow filling up the entire entrance to the dining room with their presence alone. Shinsuke’s hands twinge, and he wishes he could skip the carefully prepared meal and have something else for breakfast.

Wakatoshi is the first to walk to Shinsuke and kiss his forehead, gentle and careful, body held at an angle so as to not drip any sweat on him. That’s where they’re both wrong. Shinsuke wants, so very badly, to be messed up, but he holds himself back and lets them disappear into the house, each heading to a bathroom. In the process of finding this place, they had so many specifications that the realtor had a real challenge of finding a house where all of them would be comfortable. Wakatoshi and Shinsuke, for example, knew that Kiyoomi had to have his own bathroom, a place which only he occupied. Shinsuke wanted a library to keep all of his books. Wakatoshi was happy to have an indoor gym. In their own ways, they made the house into their own haven.

They come back in fresh clothes, smelling of pineapples and cherry blossoms, Wakatoshi and Kiyoomi taking a seat at the low-table.

“Ah, you’ve done it again, Shinsuke,” Wakatoshi murmurs, eying the plate of salmon, steam rising off it in soft clouds. There is no reprimand in Wakatoshi’s voice, simply curiosity.

Shinsuke shrugs in response. “I don’t mind the work,” he says in lieu of “I love you.”

“Thank you for the food, Shinsuke-san,” Kiyoomi says, eyes eating up the sight of the lovely hue of the tamagoyaki. 

Shinsuke feels his cheeks warm in response to the praise in Kiyoomi’s voice and the admiration in Wakatoshi’s eyes, and tells them, “Please, let’s dig in.”

Itadakimasu is echoed through all three of them, and only then can Shinsuke breathe.

The first bite of rice, topped by natto, is like taking a bite of home, and Shinsuke smiles to himself. This, having breakfast with his knees bracketed by Wakatoshi from one side and Kiyoomi on the other, is love. 

Kiyoomi, a polite, neat eater as ever, makes a small noise of appreciation upon swallowing his mouthful, as if Shinsuke hasn’t been preparing their breakfast for as long as he can remember with the few exceptions where Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi collaborated to surprise Shinsuke on certain occasions. “This is the best, Shinsuke-san, absolutely.”

He smiles and, with a clean pair of chopsticks, grabs another piece of tamagoyaki and places it on Kiyoomi’s bowl of rice, which is dwindling in size with every bite. It’s a relief since Shinsuke prepared a heap, per usual. 

Wakatoshi isn’t as vocal as Kiyoomi, but he eats well, every bite chewed thoroughly, carefully, and it’s the thoughtful movements of his hand and mouth that make Shinsuke feel fuller just by watching. Wakatoshi’s eyes seem to shine brighter when Shinsuke cuts off a piece of grilled salmon and places it on his rice. 

“Eat up, Wakatoshi,” he murmurs, placing a big bite of rice in his mouth, smiling at the way Wakatoshi looks at him. 

It never gets old, this giddiness that climbs up Shinsuke’s windpipe when he realizes that he gets to have _this_ , his boyfriends sitting at the same table, eating his food, looking at him like he lassoed the moon and placed it in their bowls when all he did was stand in the sun and let his hands transform love into sustenance. 

“Are you looking forward to the practice game, Wakatoshi-san?” Kiyoomi murmurs as they clean up afterwards, and since Shinsuke is barred from helping, he sits instead on a high backless chair at the counter, drinking a hot cup of tea. 

“Yes. Kageyama and Hinata have convinced their high school friends to join. I look forward to beating Tsukishima-san.”

Kiyoomi smiles, and in a display of spontaneity that’s rare only to the world and common to Shinsuke and Wakatoshi, flicks his sudsy fingers, getting the soapy water over Wakatoshi’s arms.

“You’re as competitive as ever.”

“Of course. Tsukishima is a worthy rival,” Wakatoshi replies honestly. The straightforwardness of his speech sliding across Shinsuke’s skin like silk, comforting in a world where sarcasm is far too popular than it should be.

Kiyoomi’s responding smile is private, turning into a bark of a laugh when Wakatoshi gets his revenge in the form of whipping the wet towel at his ass. This, Shinsuke knows, is just the perfect morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was like walking down an aisle of fresh produce and getting to take in all of nature into my heart. Thank you, mints, for the request.
> 
> i'm on twitter as [@kuroosauce](https://twitter.com/kuroosauce)


End file.
